Monday, October 18, 2010
Here's to you Mr. Reunion Name-Tag Reader
This weekend I paid $19 bucks for a glass of Scotch. It was a good single-malt, mind you, but I was a little chaffed that I paid for half the bottle with a single glass. A small glass. Of course, I had already ordered a second before I discovered the price. Caveat Emptor.
This weekend I had the privilege of attending my 20th reunion. My wife and I had a blast getting to re-know some of my oldest friends. My favorite part of the evening was some of the folks introducing themselves to my wife with something along the lines of:
(reading name-tag) 'Hey, *wife's name*, it's so good to see you again. You look great!' Yes, my wife looks great. I married a hottee. But dude, I'm the one in your class. Not my wife. And next time make sure you put some tanning lotion on the bleached wedding band line.
So yesterday I woke up with the flu. My voice is zero and my head is about to explode. For me, missing work is rare (like once every ten years rare), but this case was bad enough for the doc to order me home. I thought there would be a chance to work on my manuscript, but so far the only thing I've achieved is power-napping and stalking old classmates on Facebook.
I saw some interesting things this weekend. Some people who used to look great no longer do, while some people who used to not look great have matured into fabulous. Some people have done well for themselves, while others struggle with the rest of us. Not everyone marries their college sweetheart, gets the amazing job and the bulletproof 401k. We're human. Some folks wear their scars like a red badge of courage, others hide it amazingly well.
I wish the best to the class of 1990. We've come along way. For the folks who didn't go: Shame on you. It would have been nice to see you again. Several months ago, for a very brief moment, I debated attending. I had assumed that not all my close friends would be attending. I also assumed that my wife might not appreciate getting drug to an event that would be largely all about me.
That ended up being so-not the case. Everyone made her feel very welcome. Especially a couple dudes who mistook her for one of our class. And looked at her boobs. Several times.
WTF?
This weekend I had the privilege of attending my 20th reunion. My wife and I had a blast getting to re-know some of my oldest friends. My favorite part of the evening was some of the folks introducing themselves to my wife with something along the lines of:
(reading name-tag) 'Hey, *wife's name*, it's so good to see you again. You look great!' Yes, my wife looks great. I married a hottee. But dude, I'm the one in your class. Not my wife. And next time make sure you put some tanning lotion on the bleached wedding band line.
So yesterday I woke up with the flu. My voice is zero and my head is about to explode. For me, missing work is rare (like once every ten years rare), but this case was bad enough for the doc to order me home. I thought there would be a chance to work on my manuscript, but so far the only thing I've achieved is power-napping and stalking old classmates on Facebook.
I saw some interesting things this weekend. Some people who used to look great no longer do, while some people who used to not look great have matured into fabulous. Some people have done well for themselves, while others struggle with the rest of us. Not everyone marries their college sweetheart, gets the amazing job and the bulletproof 401k. We're human. Some folks wear their scars like a red badge of courage, others hide it amazingly well.
I wish the best to the class of 1990. We've come along way. For the folks who didn't go: Shame on you. It would have been nice to see you again. Several months ago, for a very brief moment, I debated attending. I had assumed that not all my close friends would be attending. I also assumed that my wife might not appreciate getting drug to an event that would be largely all about me.
That ended up being so-not the case. Everyone made her feel very welcome. Especially a couple dudes who mistook her for one of our class. And looked at her boobs. Several times.
WTF?
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3 comments:
HEY BW,
To be honest anywhere where a load of guys get together you'll find them Boob Leering. There's no respect and even though it offends not only the lady concerned but the partner they never seem to comprehend the whole "what the hell" attitude.
I suppose being in the military you must know this effect pretty well. As to the price of a single malt. What the hell? I've got a £50 bottle of single malt in but that really is for special occasions only.
Yep, boys and boobs. They never grow out of it; some just hide it better than others. :)
Glad you guys had a great time. Sorry you're sick.
I love this and totally agree. I was shocked at how great some folks looked -- I think most of us have held up pretty well. You included, my friend!
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